


Welcome to the Twilight Zone

by YumYumPM



Category: NCIS, The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2485226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Tongue-in-Cheek Crossover with MFU and N.C.I.S.</p><p>What happens when Characters from a top TV show show up in Gibb's basement?  UNCLE's top agents think that they were somehow transported to the future when they meet up with NCIS"s Gibbs and his team.  Humor abounds as the NCIS team do their best to help them integrate into this new timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to the Twilight Zone

“Owww.” Napoleon Solo clutched his head as he managed to open his eyes. There was no light wherever he was and underneath him lay a hard floor. “Did you get the license of the truck that hit me?” he groaned weakly as he sat up. Taking stock of his situation he realized he still held his gun in his hand. “Where are we anyway?” he asked the world at large.

Fortunately for him, his partner was also here somewhere. Illya Kuryakin, having come to moments earlier was presently bumping into objects as he stumbled around. By touch he managed to find a light switch. Turning it on, he found himself at the foot of stairs, a sliver of light showed beneath the door at the top. He ran his eyes around the room. Along the wall was a workbench, tools scattered everywhere. “We appear to be in someone’s basement.”

“Weren’t we in a…?” Napoleon asked, blinking in the sudden light.

“In a park? Yes,” Illya responded as he continued his visual investigation.

Napoleon was taken aback at finding a skeletal wooden frame of a boat sitting in the middle of the room. “Seems a rather strange place to be building a boat.”

“I wouldn’t know. You are the one that likes to sail,” Illya replied as he moved to stand next to his partner, holstering his gun. “The placement does seem a little odd though.” Illya quickly drew his gun again as a sudden loud noise caught both agents’ attention.

“You hear that?” Napoleon asked looking up the stairs. At his partner’s nod, he moved towards them, pausing to let the Russian precede him.

Illya, however, refused the offer. “After you,” he countered lightly, and then responding the Napoleon’s questioning look. “You are senior agent.”

“Why is it you only remember that at times like this?” Napoleon shook his head and with gun in hand carefully made his way up the stairs, his partner close behind. Both men paused at the top of the stairs, listening, and then followed the sounds that grew louder as they got closer.

Flanking the doorway from which strangled cries could be heard, Napoleon raised three fingers, silently indicating on the count of three. At his partner’s nod, he lowered each finger one by one before bursting into the room.

The two agents froze. There on a bed were two men who, all things considered, appeared startled by the sudden interruption. One was a younger dark-haired man, positioned facedown, his ass in the air, behind him an older man whose sweaty hair held silver highlights. The two U.N.C.L.E. agents quickly turned to face the other way, somewhat embarrassed by the sight that met their eyes. From the quick glance they had, neither man was wearing clothing.

Napoleon, his eyes covered, couldn’t resist sneaking a peek. Were the two men in the room actually doing what he thought they were doing? Illya noticed and nudged him, nodding his head to indicate that Napoleon should continue to look the other way.

“Who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” growled a gruff and angry voice. The bed creaked and sounds of movement could be heard.

“Boss, how many times do I have to tell you, you need to start locking your door?” a younger voice stated. This one actually sounded amused by the situation.

Boss? Napoleon and Illya exchanged startled glances. These guys worked together? At the sound of zippers going up, Napoleon turned around his gun at the ready. “Sorry,” he started to say but stopped when he saw that the older man was staring at Illya with a stunned look on his face.

“Illya Kuryakin,” Leroy Jethro Gibbs mumbled as he stared, remembering how Kate had asked what Ducky Mallard had looked like when he was younger. For the man in front of him was the spitting image of their medical examiner in his younger days, a picture of which Gibbs had seen in Ducky’s home.

Tony DiNozzo knew exactly what he was talking about, being a fan of classic TV shows. “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.! That means he must be Napoleon Solo,” he said, nodding his head towards the dark-haired man. But that was impossible. The show had aired over forty years ago.

The two U.N.C.L.E. agents looked at each other, puzzled. Who were these guys? How did they know their names? Napoleon shifted uncomfortably, keeping his gun trained on the two men. “Sorry to interrupt, but…” he looked to Illya for assistance.

“You seem to know us. May we know who you are?” Kuryakin came to the point as usual.

Gibbs reached for his t-shirt, pulling it on covering his bare chest while giving him time to think. Here in the privacy of his bedroom, where he and Tony had been enjoying some personal time alone, or so he thought, two strangers had actually burst in. Well not exactly strangers, he thought. He remembered watching the show when it first came out. He was surprised that Tony knew about it though. “Special Agents Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo, N.C.I.S.” Nodding his head toward the younger man, who stood on the other side of the bed, jeans his only covering. 

“Navy Criminal Investigative Service?” Tony threw out as he noted the puzzled looks on the faces of both men.

Gibbs took the chance to repeat himself. “What are you doing in my home?”

Napoleon and Illya exchanged bewildered looks. “Well, we don’t exactly know.”

“The last thing I remember, we were cornered by several THRUSH agents then…poof,” Illya said aloud.

“We were…here,” Napoleon finished with a shrug. “Wherever here is.”

“Would you mind putting your guns away?” Gibbs requested, relieved when they did so. “This is going to seem like a strange question, but what year is it?”

The two agents exchanged glances. Illya shrugged, why not? “1966. Why?” asked Napoleon.

Both Tony and Gibbs both sucked in a deep breaths, how exactly were they going to explain this.

MFU/NCIS

Then next morning Gibbs and Tony entered N.C.I.S. headquarters with two U.N.C.L.E. agents in their wake. They had spent most of the night convincing the two men that they were now in the year 2005. It was only when the two men, who were dubious, had been unable to contact anyone on their communicators that they had agreed to come with Gibbs and Tony to N.C.I.S. headquarters.

Gibbs had considered contacting the authorities, until Tony pointed out that they were the authorities and anyway who would believe them. Tony had also talked him out of bringing them in for interrogation. “Boss, do you really want to have to explain what we were doing when they broke in?”

As Gibbs passed Kate’s desk, her mouth gaping open unattractively when she caught sight of the blond agent, Gibbs ordered, “Get Ducky here. Now!” before continuing to his desk

Kate nodded and picked up her phone. 

Napoleon flashed a charming smile at the brunette, while Illya let out a sigh. Was he going to get this reaction from everyone?

Tim McGee turned a puzzled look toward Tony who merely shrugged as he took his seat behind his desk.

Gibbs opted to say nothing until the medical examiner arrived. He would make introductions at that time.

Before long the elderly doctor rounded the corner, dressed in scrubs. “Jethro, what is it you want? I was just in the middle of an autopsy.” Then he stopped suddenly, catching sight of the young blond. “Oh my.”

Gibbs stood up, “Let me make introductions, Tony you’ve already met. This is Kate Todd and Timothy McGee,” each agent nodded as their names were said, “and our ME, Donald “Ducky” Mallard. People let me introduce Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin.”

“You’re a medical examiner?” Illya asked eagerly. “I once did an autopsy.”

Napoleon covered his face with his hands. “Illya, that was on a wolf.”

“I know.” Illya waved the objection aside and turned back to Ducky. “Would it be possible to watch you work?”

Tony snuck up behind Illya and whispered, “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” Illya asked.

“He talks to the victims,” Tony responded.

“What’s wrong with that?” said both Illya and Ducky at the same time.

“Later.” Gibbs raised a hand. “McGee, do me a favor. Take our guests to the cafeteria.”

McGee nodded and gestured for the two men to precede him. 

Napoleon turned to Kate. “Would you care to join us?” he asked gallantly.

Kate looked to Gibbs who nodded, then smiled as she rose to follow along. Solo linked her arm with his, causing Illya to roll his eyes.

As they walked down the hall, McGee was heard to say, “That’s an unusual accent you have, Mr. Kuryakin. What is it?”

Once the four were out of sight a mystified Ducky spoke up, “Jethro, who are those men? ”

“Do you remember The Man from U.N.C.L.E., a TV series from the early sixties?” Tony asked coming around his desk to stand next to the medical examiner.

“Vaguely,” the medical examiner answered. “But surely they cannot be…?”

“That’s who they say they are,” Gibbs informed Ducky. “and they have identification to prove it.”

“And you believe them?” Ducky was shocked.

Gibbs shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe. They showed up in the middle of the night, in my house, in my bedroom no less. Until we have a chance to investigate, we don’t really know.”

“We were sort of hoping they could stay with you, until we get this sorted out,” Tony offered.

“Why me?” Ducky asked.

“You have a spare room,” Gibbs stated the obvious.

“I don’t know, Jethro. How will I explain it to my mother?” 

“You’ll think of something,” Gibbs said.

By the time they arrived at the lunchroom, Kuryakin had already finished his plate of food and was starting on his partner’s. Solo was perplexed, he had used his best lines on Kate and usually had women eating out of hands by now. Kate appeared impervious to his charm.

Gibbs stopped in front of their table. “Dr. Mallard had graciously agreed to let you stay at his home.”

Ducky gave a sickly smile.

“We would not wish to put you out,” Illya said, after exchanging looks with his partner. “It is just…”

“We’re not exactly sure – where to go,” Napoleon finished.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said jovially. “Ducky here is looking forward to it.” He slapped Ducky on the back. “Aren’t you?”

MFU/NCIS

Donald Mallard used his keys to let himself in the house, calling over his shoulder, “Do come in, gentlemen. Mother, I’m home.”

Napoleon and Illya followed the medical examiner into the entry hall. They had no sooner cleared the doorway when four yippy little dogs came scampering in from another room, barking their little heads off.

Tony DiNozzo, followed closely by Gibbs, knelt down welcoming the dogs’ attention. “Hi, guys,” he called to the dogs. “They’re Welsh Corgi’s,” he explained to Kuryakin who was backed up against a piece of furniture.

“You’re not still afraid of dogs?” Solo asked softly, his back turned so the others could not hear him.

Illya straightened his jacket. “Of course not.” He did however give the dogs a wide berth.

Mrs. Mallard emerged from a room at the end of the hall. She paused, took one look at the blond standing nearby, her face lit up. “Donald.”

Tony rose from where he was petting the dogs to stand next to Kuryakin as Dr. Mallard emerged from another room. “No, mother. I’m here,” Ducky said kindly, as she looked from one to the other confusion written upon her face.

“Hi, Mrs. Mallard. Remember me. Tony DiNozzo? The gigolo furniture mover?” Tony threw in, directing her attention away.

“Mother, you remember Jethro. Where did he go? These are some friends, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin. I’ve asked them to stay with us for a while,” Ducky explained to his mother.

Illya nodded, while Napoleon reached for Mrs. Mallard’s hand, “Enchantee, Madame,” he said suavely as he placed a kiss on the tips of her fingers.

Mrs. Mallard showed interest. “Are you a gigolo?”

Illya turned away to hide a smirk while Solo smiled uncertainly. “Well, I have been called many things.”

In the meantime, Gibbs emerged from the sitting room, a framed photo in his hand. He handed it to Kuryakin. Illya looked at it, then at Ducky, who nodded. “Oh,” was all he said as he handed the photo to his partner. Napoleon took one look, his mouth open. 

“If you will follow me, I will show you to your room,” Ducky said as he started up the stairs. At the top, he ventured, “I’m sorry, but it is only the one room.”

MFU/NCIS

That night the two men stripped to their boxers and slipped into the bed. Illya was lying on his side, drifting off. Napoleon, on his back, was still awake. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed. 

“Illya?” Napoleon called softly. Illya let out a grunt, the only indication that he was listening. “What do you think about what Gibbs and DiNozzo were doing?”

“I think- it is none of our business,” Illya replied, keeping his eyes still closed.

Napoleon sighed and turned raising himself up, moving so he could whisper in his partner’s only exposed ear. “I know, but haven’t you ever wondered.”

“No, Napoleon, I haven’t,” Illya said firmly.

Napoleon sighed again and fell back, flat upon the bed. He couldn’t help but wonder if times had changed so much that relationships such as Gibbs and DiNozzo were accepted.

“Napoleon?”

Napoleon smiled. “Yes?”

“Do you think we will ever get back to our own time?”

“Sure we will.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“That’s just your pessimistic Russian temperament talking.”

“What if we do not?”

“I’ll think of something.”

MFU/NCIS

The next morning Illya followed his nose and found his way to the kitchen with Napoleon close behind. Ducky, an apron around his waist, was busy at the stove fixing breakfast.

“Did you sleep well?” Ducky asked, waving a spatula indicating that they take seats at the table.

“The bed was most comfortable,” Illya informed him as he sat down.

Mrs. Mallard entered the kitchen closely followed by Gibbs and DiNozzo who in turn were followed by four yapping dogs. 

“Good morning, Jethro. Tony,” Ducky greeted them.

Dressed in her gown and wearing fuzzy slippers, Mrs. Mallard’s destination was the chair where Illya sat. She placed a kiss on the top of his head, surprising the Russian, then looked accusingly over his head at her son. “You might have told me you had a son.”

Ducky turned to stare at her, and then he sent eyes upwards toward the heavens. “Mother, he is not my son. He is not even English.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Mallard said as she too sat at the table.

Donald shook his head. When his mother was like this there was no arguing with her. 

“He did get a degree at Cambridge,” Napoleon offered. “Dead languages wasn’t it?”

“Quantum Mechanics,” Illya corrected him.

“I attended Eton myself,” Ducky informed him

Tony, in the meantime, was rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. “Got any Captain Crunch?”

Gibbs came up behind the medical examiner to ask, “Need some help?”

“Thank you, Jethro,” Ducky said, as he portioned out eggs onto plates. “Would you mind serving these? I’m really much better with French pastry.” 

As her plate was set before her, Mrs. Mallard said proudly, “Donald graduated with honors and is a certified pastry chief. Donald, where is my milk?”

“Here, mother,” Ducky said, setting the requested item in front of her before taking his seat. When everyone, including Tony who was resigned to not getting his Captain Crunch, was sitting down and eating, Ducky ventured to ask, “You have plans for today I assume?”

“Yeah,” Tony said between mouthfuls. “I thought I’d take them shopping.” He looked apologetically at the two agents. “Couldn’t help noticing that you guys traveled light.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. I’m afraid we got here with only the clothing on our backs,” Napoleon said as he pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got a couple of hundreds here and a credit card,” he said, then turning to his partner. “How about you?”

Illya swallow a piece of toast before pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket. Napoleon looked at them and handed them back. “These are Russian.”

“Sorry,” Illya flashed an embarrassed smile before reaching into another pocket extracting yet another wad of bills.

“Okay, let’s go,” Tony said rising from the table. “You coming, Boss?”

“Good meal, Ducky,” Gibbs called, already halfway out the door. “I think I’ll check on a few things at the office.”

As Napoleon rose to take leave of the table, he looked down at his partner. “You coming?”

“No. You know my sizes,” Illya said then stated with some hesitancy. “I was hoping to get a chance to observe Dr. Mallard work.” 

Gibbs looked to Ducky who shrugged. “That is fine with me.”

Nodding Gibbs turned and followed the two dark-haired men out of the kitchen. Mrs. Mallard also rose and headed for her room taking the dogs with her.

Ducky looked at the mess left on the table and let out a sigh. Why was it he was always left with the dishes?

“If it is any comfort, I too get left with the dirty jobs,” Illya offered, correctly interpreting Ducky’s thoughts. “I’m afraid my cooking skills are quite abysmal, but I can help clean up.”

Illya watched as the elder man went to an apparatus and opened it. Dishwashers were just coming into its own in Illya’s time and were not in wide use. In fact the whole kitchen was full of devices the Russian did not recognize. Perhaps he could get the medical examiner to explain them to him at a later time.

Seeing that his help was not needed, Illya roamed the downstairs checking the books that were in a bookcase. Dr. Mallard, for Illya had trouble thinking of him as Ducky, was a well versed man with books on a variety of subjects. A shiver went down his back as he found books in French, German, and Swahili, all languages with which he, Illya, were familiar with.

Another shiver went down his spine as he thought about how much the two had in common. He picked up the picture that Gibbs had shown him last night. He did not recognize the older man, but the resemblance between the doctor and himself was remarkable. Illya did not know how old the doctor was, but if this was how he might look like as years past, he mused, he could live with it. Setting the frame back where he’d gotten it, Illya smirked as he wondered what his partner would look like at the same age.

“Ready?” Ducky asked, standing by the door in coat and hat. The younger man nodded, smiling shyly. Ducky had been standing there watching the younger man, wondering just what he was thinking. It was a bit unnerving, rather like looking in a mirror that had gone back in time. Once the younger man’s partner had left, he had been quiet and unassuming, respectfully listening while Ducky rambled on. His offer to help had been appreciated but not necessary, and he had seemed curious about the dishwasher. Ducky had finished loading it and turned around to find that his guest had slipped out of the kitchen without making so much as a sound.

As Ducky held the door open, he couldn’t resist asking one question. “Pardon me for asking – but are you married?” he nodded at the wedding band on Illya’s left hand.

Illya looked down in surprise and surveyed the ring. Try as he might he could not for the life of him come up with an answer.

MFU/NCIS

Napoleon got out of the car in the crowded parking lot, staring at the building they had stopped in front of. “I thought we were going shopping?” They were parked at the Union Station, which last time Napoleon remembered seeing it, was a train station.

“We are,” Tony said as he clicked his remote locking the car doors. “It’s a mall, over 130 stores and restaurants.”

Napoleon shook his head as he followed DiNozzo inside. Inside it looked the same yet different. There were people milling around, moving from shop to shop. Napoleon was alternately shocked and delighted as the two men stopped to ogle a group of models that were weaving through the crowd dressed in skimpy underwear. One particular wench, sidled up to Tony purring, “Hello, Tony.” Casting an approving look at Napoleon before slithering off in the barely-there baby doll pajamas she was modeling, leaving a grinning Tony behind.

In a way, that shocked Napoleon more then the models. He had assumed, admittedly from what little he had seen of the man and his relationship with Gibbs, that Tony wasn’t interested in women. He didn’t let it bother him as he continued to enjoy the sights.

After awhile Tony let out a sigh and tapped Napoleon on the arm, getting his attention. “Come on, I know just the place to get what you need.” At the lascivious look that Napoleon was casting towards a model wearing bikini underwear, Tony continued with amusement. “Well, maybe not everything you need.”

Tony had sized up the U.N.C.L.E. agent and they moved through the mall until they reached Jos. A. Banks. They moved through the store, Napoleon stopping once and awhile to admire a silk/wool checkered sports coat - $199.00 and classic double breasted jacket -$129.00, before arriving at the underwear department. 

Tony followed along as Solo swiftly moved through the area, selecting boxers, briefs, undershirts, and socks. “You guys know each other pretty well?”

“Well enough,” Napoleon replied as he set the items on the counter and reached for his credit card, handing it to the clerk. 

Tony was trying on sunglasses, displayed on the counter, when the clerk handed the card back, “Sorry, sir. This card is expired.” He took the card from the stunned Solo and checked the expiration date – 06/67.

A chagrined Napoleon reached back into his pocket, pulling his wallet out and passed over the required amount. He counted the amount left, at this rate their money would not last long and they still needed slacks and shirts. Suits and ties were out of the question.

Leading Solo to the Clearance Center, Tony left Napoleon to work his way through the department, reluctantly avoiding the tropical weave trousers – reg. $195.00 on sale for $139.99 and grey herringbone sports coat – reg. $495.00 on sale for $199.99 to settle upon pleated basket weave trousers – reg. $135 on sale for $48.00 and debating on getting oxford button-down dress shirt – reg. $75.00 on sale for $39.99 or go with the cotton pique polo $29.50. For Illya, he selected a pair of black jeans - $19.99 and splurged on a black turtleneck $39.99. At the checkout register, Napoleon frowned as he handed over the last of his cash, his frugal selections had taken much of what would have been left.

Tony showed up carrying a wrapped package, noted the depleted wallet and taking pity on him, led him out, stopping at an ATM to get cash. 

“What’s that?” Napoleon asked.

“ATM. Automated Teller Machine,” Tony explained. “Let’s you get cash anywhere. Didn’t you have those were you come from?”

Napoleon shook his head. Come to think of it, Napoleon had no recollection of how he acquired his cash. It just seemed that he always had some, though not as much as he would wish.

They stopped at a small snack area, Tony treating to burgers and fries. As he munched on a fry, Tony looked at the dark-haired agent. “Just how close are you two?” he asked.

Napoleon frowned as he checked his burger. “Depends on what you mean by close. Illya’s my partner and best friend.”

“Are you his boss, are what?” Tony asked, something Tony had always wondered.

“Technically, yes,” Napoleon responded. “At least he allows me to think so.”

Tony’s first introduction to The Man from U.N.C.L.E. had been through a former girlfriend. They had been rerunning the series on a local channel and his girl had been somewhat smitten with the blond Russian. Tony remembered fondly how it never really bothered him that she would shout Kuryakin’s name as she climaxed. 

“Oh, Tony,” she would say, “Can’t you see the attraction between the two of them? Solo is just sooo sexual, and Kuryakin sooo repressed. Don’t you just wonder what they do at night, once each affair is over?” Doubtfully she had no idea as to what she was suggesting, but the idea had piqued Tony enough that he’d soon developed his own interest in other men. He’d done some experimenting, but no one had held his interest for long until Gibbs. 

Tony grinned. “Soooo are you two…?” Tony asked, waving his fries. 

Napoleon reddened slightly. “Would you mind if I asked a personal question?”

Tony shook his head, picking up his drink and sipping through the straw. “Go ahead.”

“Did…did Gibbs coerce you into…” 

Tony laughed, almost spitting a mouthful of cola. “God, no. That’s not Gibbs’ style. I had to make the first move.” He raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve, ah, considered…”

Napoleon shook his head. “Not really. It would have to be a cold day in hell before Illya would…” he stopped unable to complete the thought.

Tony leaned over the table, his eyebrows waggling. “Care for a little advice?”

Napoleon his mouth open, ready to bite into his burger thought about it. A little advice couldn’t hurt. Taking the bite he nodded.

 

MFU/NCIS

 

The ride to N.C.I.S. headquarters was made in silence. The Russian seemed pensive and Ducky began to regret asking about the ring, thinking that the memories must indeed be unpleasant, totally unaware that there were no memories surrounding the ring at all.

The two stopped in on Gibbs, before heading for the morgue. Ducky took off his coat and hat and turned surprised to find his assistant standing there, his mouth open with astonishment. “Mr. Palmer, if you have nothing better to do, would you kindly take the samples from the other day to Abby.” As the younger man stuttered and grabbed the samples leaving the room, Ducky turned to Illya. “Mr. Palmer is currently training to be a medical examiner. Perhaps one day he will succeed. Though from what I’ve seen so far I have my doubts.” He moved to dress in his scrubs.

“Forgive me, Dr. Mallard,” Illya said, his eyes alight as he surveyed the room. “But did you always want to be a medical examiner?”

Ducky was busy checking the room, making sure everything was as it should be. “Actually I attended Edinburgh Medical School, upon graduating I set up private practice in London.” He stopped as he remembered that time. “Unfortunately I was not a rousing success, so I switched to forensic medicine.” He chuckled. “I seem to relate better to my patients now.” He passed over a set of scrubs saying. “Here put these on.”

They spent the rest of the morning reviewing the previous day’s work, Ducky setting off a stream of chatter. He had a constant source of stories of his days as Medical Examiner for the City of London Police, his work with Scotland Yard and even hinted that he had been involved with M16 British Intelligence.

Illya didn’t know whether to believe most of it, but he loosened up enough to tell about the time he and Napoleon had been to the Balkans and he had done an autopsy on a wolf. It was as if Illya was relating from a book with no personal or intimate details. If Ducky found that strange he did not say so.

The time went swiftly, neither man realizing that they had missed lunch until Gibbs called asking them to come to the bullpen.

 

MFU/NCIS

Gibbs hung up the phone after contacting Ducky. Tony had called on his cell phone to let him know that he and Solo were on their way back. Soon Ducky and Illya rounded a corner at the same time that Tony and Napoleon stepped out of the elevator. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Tony, who held up his package. “Got it, Boss.”

Gibbs got up from behind his desk. “Let’s take this to the conference room.” As Kate and McGee got up to follow he continued, “You two stay here, we don’t want be disturbed. If we need you, we’ll call.”

Kate and McGee, looking disappointed, returned to their seats as the five men headed for the conference room. The two looked to each other wondering what was going on and why they couldn’t come along. 

As Gibbs and Tony led the way with Ducky trailing behind, Napoleon leaned closer to Illya to murmur, “I hope those rubles of yours are worth something.”

As they were about to enter the conference room Tony remarked, “Give me a few minutes to set things up.”

Gibbs nodded and led the rest to the break room, where he got coffee for them all. By the time they returned to the conference room Tony had everything set up. 

“Gentlemen, please have a seat,” Gibbs said as he moved to stand next to Tony.

The three men all took seats around the conference table. Gibbs nodded to Tony who clicked the remote control. “I only managed to find two, Boss. This one’s my personal favorite.”

The television set lit up and the FBI warning came on followed by Warner Home Video. The two U.N.C.L.E. agents looked at each other, puzzled as the music played around the Turner logo. This was followed by the, to three of the men, familiar logo of a man standing next to a globe with a map as the backdrop. Soon there was a figure holding a gun and then the picture jumped to a man standing behind a glass plate. The gun fired three shots, shattering the glass. The picture brightened and the man behind the glass held up a gun and was clearly visible. It was Napoleon. The words ‘The Project Strigas Affair’ flashed across the screen.

“What is this? Surveillance tapes?” Napoleon growled angrily and started to rise from his chair. Illya caught his arm, pulling him back down and shook his head indicating he wanted to see more.

Tony hit the pause button as Ducky looked nervously at Gibbs. “Jethro, do you think you should?”

“It’s the only way,” Gibbs said. “I’m asking you not to say anything until it’s over,” he requested of the two U.N.C.L.E. agents, then he nodded for Tony to continue. Tony clicked the button once more. The globe logo was back and The Man from U. N. C. L. E. flashed across the screen. Then Napoleon was on the screen with the words ‘Starring Robert Vaughn as Napoleon Solo’ then Illya was on the screen with the words ‘Co-starring David McCallum as Illya Kuryakin’ and then a familiar Mr. Waverly with the words ‘and Leo G. Carroll as Alexander Waverly’.

There was silence for the next hour and forty-four minutes as the five watched first The Project Strigas Affair and The Never Never Affair.

“I also managed to get The Deadly Toys Affair and The Minus X Affair,” Tony said quietly as he flicked off the remote. He along with Gibbs and Ducky looked to the two agents.

Napoleon sat there in stunned silence. He looked to his partner whose eyes were closed. “Illya?” he asked uncertainly. When Illya did not answer Napoleon turned apprehensive eyes to Gibbs. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

Gibbs opened his mouth to explain, but Tony stopped him with a shake of his head. He moved to sit next to Napoleon and placing a hand on the man’s arm said gently, “The Man from U.N.C.L.E. was a television series that premiered in 1964. It was on for three seasons and over a hundred shows were filmed. Only twenty-two home videos were made. Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin and all the rest are just characters from a television show. They aren’t real.”

“No!” Napoleon denied shaking his head. “I’m real. I am Napoleon Solo.”

“What’s your middle name?” Gibbs fired.

Napoleon paused, puzzled, “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Gibbs shrugged, “Where do you live?”

Napoleon grew agitated. “I don’t remember,” he shouted. Illya’s head was bowed, his hands covering his ears, remaining quiet. 

“Boss.” Tony pulled Gibbs aside. “Go easy on him. It’s not his fault.”

“I… am… Napoleon Solo. I am real. Illya is real. U.N.C.L.E…,” Napoleon shouted, then he paused getting a grip on himself before turning to stare at the young man he had been beginning to trust. “We are…real, aren’t we?” he asked more quietly almost pleadingly.

Ducky was watching Illya with worry. He moved over and felt the man’s neck. “I think he’s in shock,” he said looking toward Gibbs.

Illya came out of it and opened eyes. “No,” he said softly, his blue eyes saddened. “I am…fine.” He paused for a moment. “It would explain a lot.” He held up his hand to stare at the wedding band on his finger. Now he knew why he had no memory of a marriage, nor anything else for that matter, beyond what they had just watched. “Napoleon, you don’t remember where we live, what we do once the mission is over, do you?”

Napoleon thought about it and reluctantly shook his head at a loss for words. Were they just figments of the imagination?

“Boss?” Tony looked up at Gibbs, pleading as he tightened his grip on Napoleon. “They are real. I can feel it.”

Gibbs let out a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was unsympathetic. The whole thing seemed like something out of the Twilight Zone. There was only one thing to be done. “Duck, take them to your lab and check them over.”

Napoleon started and Tony grinned, “He doesn’t mean that kind of check-up.”

The American agent looked to his Russian partner and when Illya nodded, he got up almost in a trance to follow the medical examiner.

Once they reached Ducky’s domain, the medical examiner sent Palmer away. He gathered up his medical bag and stared at the clean metal tables before turning to the two men and requesting, “Take off your clothes, please.”

MFU/NCIS

 

As Illya finished redressing after the examination he moved to sit shoulder to shoulder with his partner. He was worried, Napoleon was not reacting normally, or what he had come to think of as normal. Napoleon’s whole identity, his self-worth was wrapped up in being who he thought he was and now that had been taken away from him. 

Illya on the other hand had always been whoever U.N.C.L.E. wanted him to be. This was not as much of a shock to him as it was to his partner. He leaned closer against his partner in sympathy and was relieved when Napoleon glanced at him and smiled. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

Gibbs and Tony walked in. Tony went straight to Napoleon, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Tony asked.

Illya, for some reason, felt a flash of jealousy. Napoleon was his friend, right now the only friend he had.

As if sensing Illya’s feelings, Napoleon reached over and clasped his arm giving it a squeeze before answering Tony. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well?” Gibbs asked the medical examiner.

“Well, they are exactly what they look like. Two normal healthy males, who happen to look like and think they are characters from a television show,” Ducky relayed as he put away his medical equipment. “What do you plan to do?”

Gibbs, his arms folded in front of his chest, bit the inside of his lip as he considered.

Tony cleared his throat, causing everyone to look his way. “Here’s a strange idea. You guys won’t believe it – there are dozens of web-sites on the internet devoted to The Man from U.N.C.L.E. There has been talk on the channels of a new Man from U.N.C.L.E. movie.” The four men in the room looked at each other, perplexed. “Who best to play the title roles? You guys can act, can’t you?”

Illya laughed out loud, even Napoleon smiled. Act – their whole life as spies had been acting.

Gibbs nodded. It just might work.

Ducky agreed. “They’ll need new identities though. They can’t possibly audition for the parts as themselves. Are you sure about this?” 

Tony nodded enthusiastically. “I’m not sure if they were planning to reprise the roles of Napoleon and Illya, but after they see these guys they’ll have to.”

“New identities should prove no problem. We’ll just get Abby on it,” Gibbs stated.

“Abby…of course,” Ducky said wondering why it hadn’t occurred to him sooner.

MFU/NCIS

With Gibbs in the lead and Tony only a half a step behind him, the five men invaded Abby’s space. Abby had the music up loud, as usual, and was dancing, her pig tails flying, around the room to the beat.

Napoleon grimaced and Illya moved closer in commiseration. Ducky followed along behind, a slight smile on his face, looking forward to the reaction from the younger men that he knew was coming.

“Abs,” Gibbs called over the music. Abby’s eyes were closed and with the music ringing in the air, could not possibly hear him. “Abs,” he called again, before going over and shutting the music off.

“Hey!” Abby stopped in mid beat to yell indignantly. Then she noticed who had shut down her music. “Oh. And what can I do for you, bossman?” she asked with her usual flair.

Napoleon stood there, his mouth gaping. Illya, on the other hand, was fascinated. Not by the music of course. That had been much too crass. 

“Abby is our forensic specialist,” Ducky said mildly, as Abby circled the two agents.

Tony leaned in close to say conspiratorially, “She’s Goth.”

The two U.N.C.L.E. agents looked to each other. ‘Goth?’ Napoleon mouthed. Illya shrugged, his eyes more interested on the equipment in this lab. It was like being a kid in a candy shop.

Gibbs moved behind her planning to introduce them. “Abby, this is…”

Abby stopped, her eyes bright. “No. Don’t tell me.” Bringing her hand together and pointing with her forefingers. “You are Napoleon Solo…” then pointing to the blond “and you are Illya Kuryakin.” She smiled wickedly and glanced over her shoulder, thinking she was making a joke.

“Actually, you are correct,” Illya said, taking the lead and moving closer to shake her hand. Napoleon was still standing in a state of shock. The combination of lab coat, gloves, makeup, and spiked dog collar were unusual to say the least.

“No way!” Abby said before signing to Gibbs. ‘He’s pulling my leg, right, Boss?’ 

‘Nope.’ Gibbs signed back.

“But…but…that’s impossible.” Abby, with her hands on hips, confronted Gibbs.

“Impossible or not, that is who they say they are.”

“What….how?” Abby sputtered.

“We don’t know what or how. They are just…here. Tony has come up with a plan that might work but they’ll need new identities,” Gibbs explained.

“Sure. When do you need them?” Abby believed in going with the flow, besides she could make new identities in her sleep.

“As soon as possible.” 

“Hmmm,” Abby said as she circled the men again, getting a feel for their new identities. It would take a little time and she could use some help. “I’ll need McGee,” she declared.

“Boss, if we bring McGee into this, we will certainly have to tell Kate,” Tony pointed out.

Gibbs shrugged. “So we tell them.”

Kate and McGee were called in and brought up-to-date. Kate had her doubts about the whole business but managed to keep her opinions to herself. Abby explained to McGee what was needed and he agreed that it would go faster with his help.

That settled, Abby turned her attention to the two men who stood by waiting. Clasping her hands together, she brought her forefingers to her lips as she contemplated which man they should work on first. She lowered them to point at the blond member of the team. “You. I think we’ll start with you.” The area was getting a little crowded with all the people in the room, she turned away to gather and set up her digital camera. “Gibbs, I might need a little substance,” she hinted.

“Later,” Gibbs said.

“Ah, I can take a hint, even if Jethro cannot.” Ducky gathered Gibbs and Tony by their arms, leading them toward the door. “Do let us know when you need us.”

“Will do, Duckman,” Abby called as she put the finishing touches to her preparations. Her attention was now totally on the project. “Okay, stand right here,” she said positioning Illya where she wanted him.

Napoleon had taken the time to move closer to Kate and was dividing his attention between her and what was happening with his partner.

Illya noted out of the corner of his eye and glowered.

“You need to smile,” Abby suggested, which only produced a bigger scowl. “O-kay, dour is good,” Abby said snapping the shot, McGee watching with interest over her shoulder.

“Come on, Illya, give us a smile,” Napoleon called out, his arm wrapped around Kate’s waist. He gave her a squeeze, pulling her close. “You’d like to see him smile, wouldn’t you, Sweetheart?”

Deliberately removing his hand from around her waist, escaping his clutch, Kate said, “I am not your sweetheart.”

Abby snapped the picture as Illya smiled at the pained look upon Napoleon’s face. “Okay, your turn, Romeo,” she called when she was done.

“Shouldn’t you take more? Just in case?” McGee whispered in her ear.

“Nah, these should do for now,” Abby said through the side of her mouth as she worked at positioning Napoleon.

Napoleon scowled as Illya moved close to Kate and she didn’t move away.

“Come on. You can do better then that,” Abby cajoled.

“Yeah, what has happened to the legendary Solo charm?” Illya taunted, mimicking Tony’s tones so well that Kate jabbed him in the side automatically.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kate said, as soon as she realized her mistake.

This little byplay brought the smile that Abby was waiting for to Napoleon’s face and she snapped the shot in triumph. “Thanks, Kate.” Next Abby downloaded the pictures to her and McGee’s computers, setting them up for the next step. Then she flicked a switch and called,  
“Okay, boss, we’re ready.” 

 

Gibbs swung through the sliding door, Abby’s drink of choice in his hand. He was closely followed by Tony and Ducky. Tony had been pacing like a caged tiger ever since they had left, worrying Gibbs. Ducky had seemed pensive.

Sitting at her station, Abby joyfully received her drink, took a sip, then turned. “Okay, boys, your identifications, please,” she requested holding out her hand.

Each man reached into a pocket, reluctantly removing their last link to their reality. Abby took one set of documents, and passed the other to McGee. 

McGee studied the one’s he received, a driver’s license and passport. The passport had been used – a lot. “You always carry a passport with you?” he asked.

Napoleon shrugged. “You never know when you’ll need one.”

“Cut the crap and get on with it,” Gibbs ordered.

The two computer wizards quickly set up their screens and were ready to go.

“Okay, have you any suggestion as to names?” Abby asked.

“Why can’t they use the names Robert Vaughn and David McCallum? The actors who originally played them,” Gibbs suggested.

“That won’t work, Jethro,” Ducky protested. “Those men are probably still alive.”

“Yes, they are,” Kate interjected. At everyone’s questioning look she continued, “I checked it out on the internet.”

“When?”

“Ah, a while back,” Kate said uneasily. “I thought there was something strange sooo….”

“Can we get back to names, please?” Abby asked irritably.

Ducky turned to the Russian member of the team. “Well my boy, would you have any objections to becoming my nephew? How would you like to be a Mallard? You’ll have to adjust your accent, however, to something a bit more British.”

“That’s a great idea, Ducky,” Abby enthused. “What about him though?” she asked pointing to Napoleon.

Napoleon gave her a blank look. This shouldn’t be difficult; after all he had used aliases before.

“Perhaps, Smith?” Illya offered slyly. Buddington Smith being one of the many names that Napoleon had used before.

Napoleon wrinkled his nose in distaste. Smith he could live with, being called Bud was not something he looked forward to. Suggestions were tossed back and force, Norbert, Nevil, Nigel. None of which Napoleon cared for. Abby finally came up with the perfect suggestion. 

Illya’s was simpler. They simply converted his middle name, Nickovetch, to something less Russian. Abby wanted to keep a middle initial and decided to use K. She and Kate argued over what it should stand for. Abby felt that the K should stand for Kuryakin, Kate being realistic suggested Keith since that was David McCallum’s middle name. 

All the while the two men in question stood quietly aside, wondering why these people were going to all this trouble just for them, so they pulled Gibbs aside and asked.

Gibbs gave it some thought, he shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I suppose, if this had happened to me, I would want some help.” Then he smiled. “Besides, Tony would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

And so Nathaniel Smith and Nicolas K. Mallard were born.

MFU/NCIS

Napoleon woke up feeling more contented then he had in a long time. He looked over to the other side of the bed where a thatch of blond hair showed above the covers. For some reason, now that they could afford it, Illya insisted on putting the air conditioner to almost freezing and covering himself completely. He felt comfortable with the knowledge that that wouldn’t last for long.

It was fortunate for them that Tony had been correct in his assumption, and they had no trouble procuring the parts. The NCIS agents had, after working hard to forge acting references, managed to procure for them a meeting with the lady who owned the rights to The Man from U.N.C.L.E. movie. Napoleon or Nat as he was now known used his unique flash and charm to win them the parts.

So now here they were living in the lap of luxury in Los Angeles. The two, being unknowns, didn’t command such prices as Brad Pitt, but it was enough to get by on. The movie was going well, the director having worked on the original series, could not get over how much Nat and Nick resembled the original actors. He was really impressed by how quickly they were able to get into character.

Napoleon had been worried that they would be typecast and the money would dry up. Then what would they do? The two of them only knew spying and that seemed out of the question. Illya with a little help from Abby and McGee had found web sites on the original actors that showed their careers. Ducky had been right, the two actors were still alive and going strong. Napoleon and Illya had gotten a chance to meet them and where much impressed.

Upon arriving in California, Illya had been shocked by the prices that were asked for even studio apartments. So when Napoleon suggested they share, he had quickly acquiesced. This way, they each had a little extra money. Illya had managed to develop a talent for investing and their money had grown to the point that they could each afford their own places.

The work wasn’t easy by any means. Fortunately the two were used to working long hours, and they had no problems staying in character. The really hard parts were the interviews. Some of the questions asked were of a personal nature. Where were you born? How long have you been acting? What have you done before this movie? Are you seeing anyone special? Are you gay?

Fortunately, thanks to the NCIS agents, who had gone into great detail on the profiles, they had ready answers to most of the questions. It was the ‘are you gay’ questions that stumped them at first. 

Napoleon, of course, had been in heaven and managed to get dates right and left with any number of starlets. Even Illya had done his share of dating, but the cost of dating had disenchanted the frugal Russian to such an extent that he had eventually stopped completely, preferring to remain aloof.

Napoleon supposed that Illya’s lack of dating habits along with the fact that the two were sharing an apartment were what had started the rumors. First they had denied the rumors that they were gay, but then they got flack from the gay rights groups. The two sat down and discussed it. Napoleon had been surprised when Illya gave in readily when he suggested they give it a try. “Today’s women are much too forward for my taste.” Illya had admitted. “I could remain celibate, but what’s the point.”

Napoleon found that he liked the change in their relationship. In fact once they actually committed themselves to this course, he found giving up women not as difficult as he expected. It had worried him a little as to how this might affect the movie, but it seemed that it did not make a notable difference. In fact, if their fan mail was any indication, quite a few people had always seen them in that light. Now there was even talk of reprising their roles in a series.

Yes, Napoleon was very content indeed. He felt the mattress shift and a warm body up against his. He kept his eyes closed as fingers began playing with his chest hair. “What is it you find so fascinating about my chest?” he asked.

Illya chuckled. “Most women don’t have chest hair.”

“Most women don’t have one of these either.” Napoleon opened his eyes to smile fondly down upon the blond head, as he wagged his cock at Illya. 

His fingers lightly stroking, bringing Napoleon’s cock to full attention, Illya asked, “You like this, don’t you?” 

“Da, da, da.” Napoleon answered, his eyes shut as the pleasure melded through him. Things were just getting interesting when a chime sounded from the other room and Illya bounced out of the bed, snagging his robe as he went by.

Napoleon followed as Illya slid into the chair before his computer. Abby’s face was upon the screen. “How’s it going? Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Abby smiled, and then she seemed to look over Illya’s shoulder and let out a wolf whistle. Illya turned around to see what it was she was whistling at. 

Napoleon was standing there wearing nothing but his birthday suit. He turned a bright red and quickly snatched up a nearby pillow, covering his privates, gasping, “She can’t see me, can she?”

“Obviously, she can,” Illya snickered as he turned back to the screen to address Abby. “Nothing I can’t get back to later.” He noticed that Abby was busily pounding her keyboard. “What are you doing, Abs.” He and Abby had become close friends, he was teaching her Russian and she was teaching him sign language.

“You’ll see,” Abby assured him, an evil smile lighting her face. “You guys are really hot here. Ducky sends his regards. His mother keeps after him to get you home for a visit. Gibbs and the rest of the team are on their way to San Diego on a case. They were wondering if they could stop by while they were in the neighborhood.” She hit a final key on her keyboard.

“Sure. We have some time off at the moment, so it should work out perfectly,” Illya said as the printer next to his computer started up. He pulled the sheet out, an 8 x 11 ½ print of Napoleon in all his glory. Somehow Abby had managed to capture the quick glimpse of Solo and freeze the frame, enhance the picture, crop, cut, and paste it all in a matter of minutes. 

“Naps might want to autograph it and give it to Kate,” Abby suggested wickedly.

Illya’s laughter rang out as she closed the connection. Kate was not too enamored of Napoleon. She said he reminded her too much of Tony. He got up handing the picture to Napoleon, who sat, the pillow still covering him, on the arm of a chair. “Perhaps we should have it framed,” Illya said wryly.

Napoleon frowned. “I didn’t know you and Abby were so close.”

“You needn’t worry, my friend. We are not that close,” Illya said as he headed back toward the bedroom. “Come let us not waste a rare free day.”

Napoleon followed, dropping a large red pillow carelessly on the floor.


End file.
